


Lanky Boys

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Comfort, Delusions, Drugs, Mental Illness, Multi, Neglect, Poor Gamzee, Rape, Wtf did I just write, it's dark, more characters will be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-24 11:58:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It hurt sometimes. Sometimes everything came at him at once, all the sights and sounds and it made him want to die. But other times, the good times, everything was blissfully numb and he could fade away; pretend that his blood didn't stain the ground, that the one above him intended only pain and betrayal. He could pretend everything was okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. These limbs don't fit any more

**Author's Note:**

> Notice: I've come up with some pretty interesting swears btw. Just a heads up.

Karkat Vantas.  
Fifteen years old and in the tenth grade. A short, fiery teenager with dark black hair and crimson eyes, somehow, despite being rude and abrasive, he managed to rake in eleven close friends, or at least relatively close. One of which happened to be the jovial clown that stood in front of him.  
Gamzee 'motherfucking' Makara, renowned goofball and stoner. He had a penchant for attracting attention in the forms of laughs, snickers, yells, and groans, some good and some bad. He had no cares in the world, but Karkat was pissed at this stupid juggalo freak- who had not attended school. At all. For a week.

"Gamzee! What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"  
Karkat demanded, eyes lowering into a glare. He met the nonchalant gaze of the clown with a burning passion in his look. Fists clenching, the shorter male clutched at his book bag, very nearly punching holes in the straps [or so he'd like to believe].  
"Well bro, I just thought that I'd motherfuckin' pop by and give a brother some company on his way back to his motherfucking home, bro."  
"…forget I even fucking asked." 

Deeming that the stupid asshole was bound to accompany him anyways, Karkat waved a hand for Gamzee to follow him. For the first few minutes, the two bantered back and forth, conversations about miracles, school, and the stupidity of others filled the space between the two. It was comfortable, a routine they both were used to, but something was wrong.  
Karkat couldn't be sure if it was just the amount of time it had been seen he had seen Gamzee, but something was off about the face painted boy. Under his ratty hoodie, the lanky teen seemed to be tense, shoulders tight. Worry knitted Karkat's reddened gaze as he took in the shuffling of his friend's feet, the fidgeting of his hand, the downcast expression that hid in his eyes. It wasn't until Gamzee tilted his head that he realized he had gone quiet.  
"Karbro? You got something up in your motherfuckin' think pan that's bothering' ya brother?"  
A lilting voice glided through the now awkward silence. Karkat shrugged, uncharacteristically quiet as he unlocked the door to his house. Kankri and his Dad wouldn't be home for the next few hours, which left the house silent and empty. The two boys shuffled inside, and Karkat threw his bag to the side.

Without warning, Karkat whipped around and shoved Gamzee against the door, the latter of the two shocked enough to raise his hands uselessly. Elbow digging into Gamzee's collar bone, the red eyed kid narrowed his gaze, scrutinizing the taller teen.  
"What. The. Fuck. Happened."  
Silence crept into the room, heavy with tension as the question sunk in. The only sound was laboured breathing, intensity sizzling on the hypersensitive duo, Gamzee begin to tremble a bit under the pressure. To emphasize his point, Karkat pressed a little harder, never aiming to injure but only to get across his serious intentions.

"B-Bro, I, I don't know what you mean."  
Squirming, the clown faced boy tried to weasel out of the younger's vice-like grip. Relaxing, Karkat released him only to practically throw him onto the couch. Arms crossed, he continued to stand and stare. Black hair, tipped with dark purple, was mussed up- more than usual. There was a moment in which Gamzee returned the glare with a wide eyed, doe-in-the-headlights look. After a minute or two, he sighed, and curled up- hugging his knees to his chest.  
"I just, I just got into some trouble on the street agai-"  
"Bullshit."  
The sudden reply shocked Gamzee, and he raised his head to meet glassy eyes, holding back an explosion of anger and betrayal and sadness. A hand reached out towards Karkat, aiming to comfort him. A crack sounded out as the anger filled teen slapped away the offending appendage.

"HOW FUCKING DARE YOU."  
Karkat screamed, eliciting a flinch from Gamzee, who pulled his legs even closer to his chest.   
"You don't have the fucking PRIVILEGE to pull that bullfucking shit on me! All you do is listen to my shit and laugh and try to fucking comfort me and when I try to give a shit about you, you tell me your rage-inducing, ass-humping BULLSHIT you fucking juggle reject! If you think for one second that I'm going to sit down and WATCH you dig a fucking hole and die in it then you're motherfucking wrong you stupid excuse for a best friend!"  
Malice and hatred laced the words, and as soon as they were spoken, Karkat slumped over and reached towards the accused.

Gamzee was hunched over, knuckles white from the tension of his fists, clenching the polka dotted pants that were oh so familiar. His breaths were coming shakily, and he had buried his face in his knees. Somewhere in the rant, the clown had pressed against the far end of the couch- he looked as though he was expected to be hit.  
"No, oh fuck, Gamzee, listen-" One of Karkat's hands reached out to cup his heaving shoulder, but he winced as Gamzee jerked back in fear and remorse. Quiet murmurings of apology hid could be heard from instead the whimpering shell.  
"Shit, Gamzee, I'm sorry, I- I just, fuck, you've been gone for so long and every time you come back you're hurt and fuck, it hurts to _watch_ you do this, if one day you just-"  
Arms stopped Karkat, mid sentence, reaching around him and pulling him close in a heaving sob. A damp patch soaked Karkat's black long sleeve, but who fucking cared. Desperate fingers caught onto the back of the thick fabric, and pitiful whimpers whisked their way into the air. Later on, greasepaint would probably stain his shirt, but right now, Karkat was preoccupied with the snivelling mess before him.

"Karkat, Karkat, K-Karkat, I'm so motherfucking sorry, this motherfucker's got burdens and motherfuck I never want you to motherfucking worry, I hate having you worry I am so, so sorry, please forgive me Karkat, I know I don't deserve it-"  
Sighing, the younger boy began to lead Gamzee up the stairs. With only a few stumbles, the two reached the bathroom, and Karkat sat his friend down and, with practised strokes, had the paint off his face in moments.  
Breath hitching, the teen slowly cleaned off the layers of dirt, and winced at the atrocity of a black eye that practically spread half of Gamzee's face. A deep cut on his forehead seemed to have festered, but that probably wasn't all. With a gesture of his hand, Karkat signalled for Gamzee to strip. Uneasily, the skinny teenager discarded all clothes but his boxers. A familiar, yet unwelcome sight greeted Karkat.  
Gamzee was thin, really thin. Karkat knew that his father wasn't around often, but sometimes a knot in his stomach throbbed when he thought about how much care his friend was _really_ receiving. 

Ribs protruded, some riddled with deep purple bruises. Sickly skin covered a skeletal frame, and matched with the unpainted face, Gamzee looked less 'slap-happy clown' and more 'abused child'. Karkat's hand ran over the damaged skin, both trying to comfort the teen and searching for open cuts or- god forbid- protruding lumps that could spell broken bones.  
"Gamzee…"  
Quietly, Karkat raised his eyes to the lanky boy's, only to find that his friend's violet eyes were looking down and away, shame filling his gaze. Rage sparked through the teen as he realized that Gamzee was _fucking sorry_ for the bruises and cuts and black eyes and shit that covered him. He was sincerely sorry. Teeth gritting, Karkat grabbed Gamzee's chin, gently [so _gently_ ] yanking his face up to scrutinize.  
"I can see what you're fucking doing. You think it's your fault. Whoever's doing this to you, I am going to fucking kill them. I swear to god, whoever thinks that they can get away with this bullshit-"  
"Sh."  
Anger boiled under Karkat's skin at the interruption, that Gamzee would have the NERVE to try and comfort HIM, when it should be the other way. Reaching behind his head, Gamzee's pressed their foreheads together, and Karkat let out a shaky breath.   
"Brother, I'm gonna get you to make me a motherfucking promise here."  
"But-"  
"Bro."

In those purple eyes, there was a note of pleading, a puppy dog look that begged Karkat to comply. After a moment, the clown continued.  
"You'll drop this."  
A look of incredulous rage flashed in Karkat's crimson eyes, his face contorting into a glare.  
"Fuck no! Not when you always come here with bullshit excuses and-"  
"Please Karkat, man, you could- I don't know what I would do if you got involved and he- I just don't want you-"  
Noticing the heightened state of panic, Karkat patted Gamzee's shoulder, and slumped in defeat.  
"Not forever. I won't watch this forever. Now get changed, I might as well feed your skinny ass before you start attracting crows or some shit."  
Standing up, Karkat turned to go, ignoring the chuckle that Gamzee gave as he began to redress.   
"Aight bro, that sounds sick to me. Can we play some motherfucking Monopoly after?"  
"Fine, you stupid clown-fucking idiot."

This time, Karkat almost laughed.  
Almost.


	2. And it hurts to admit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe he was wrong, maybe he should've told him. But the image of his face in pain at the hands of that man, it haunted his worst nightmares- he couldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. This happened.

The door clicked behind him, long limbs trying to creep into the house without a sound. There was a sleeping mass that sprawled out on the couch, and Gamzee shut his eyes tight, trying to keep his breathing steady.. His father was home, but he was asleep, some needles and bottles strewn across the floor in the rather empty living room. The familiar scent of rot and drugs wafted into Gamzee's nose, and he nearly scoffed.  
 _Home, sweet home bitches._

With caution, the boy managed to sneak his way over to the base of the staircase, and started up it- only to stop when a creak rang true through the air. Everything froze, and the heavy snores from the couch stopped, catching Gamzee mid-step. Panicked purple eyes darted back and forth, looking for somewhere to hide. Thankful that he wouldn't have to head to Karkat's in the morning, the clown prepared himself for a confrontation.  
"The prodigal son returns, hey?"  
A deep voice, more of a growl than anything, rumbled from where the mass used to be. Now, even through the darkness, Gamzee could make out the rather large, bulky form that he despised to call his father. An involuntary shudder travelled the lanky boy's spine, and he turned about to come face-to-chest with his dad.

"Hey pops."  
No love was in the tone, no familiarity in the words- nor was there any trace of malice or hatred, only slight dread. Immediately following, a large hand clamped on the boy's neck, raising him onto his tiptoes against the wall. A pathetic squeak whispered out from between his lips, chapped and stained with face paint. Pain sparked Gamzee's spine as a sharp corner dug into his spine- good, he'd focus on that instead of the knee digging in between his legs and _oh god he doesn't want this_.   
"What the FUCK BOY! Do you think you can just COME AND GO as you MOTHERFUCKING PLEASE?!"  
"P-Please-"  
"PLEASE WHAT? Please let you go? MOTHERFUCKING NO!"

It hurt, still, despite the fact that Gamzee focusing on anything but the sensation of being lifted and carried over his father's shoulder. He stared at the shadows, tried to remember what it was like to be blissful, remember gentle, cautious. Gentle, like Karkat's touch, not painful like this. Roughly, Gamzee was thrown onto a bed, and it was moments- motherfucking MOMENTS- before he was wearing nothing, and damn was it cold. He itched to curl up and never move again- when he moved to do so, a large hand slapped his chest and a whine slipped out. There was a feeling between his thighs, and then fire ripped throughout his lower back. Vaguely, Gamzee recalled a scream before realizing with a start that it was him. Another open handed slap ended his protest, and the boy clenched his fists on the bed. Shutting his eyes, Gamzee tried to ignore the heavy breathing and the rough thrusts that brought more aching with every passing moment.

"MotherFUCK boy."  
The thing [he refused to think about what it was] left him and he felt sick, empty and broken again. He ached, he ached and it didn't help when he was thrown over a shoulder and moved again. Everything was blurry, and then there was nothing except the hard slam of a body against a wall- why did he hurt? Was that _him_? Oh god, everything ached and hurt and it was cold but he couldn't move- his door clicked shut. Gamzee opened his eyes a little wider to be greeted by his room. Full of posters and bicycle horns and dirty clothes and familiar things. Unable to summon enough willpower, the boy simply curled up and groaned and shivered for a while. Eventually, he crawled into bed, cowering beneath the blankets and nursing his nearest injuries. 

Something made him wonder if he'd done the right thing.


	3. But I'm just Filler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filler mostly.

Rage fueled him at the moment.  
Gun clenched in hand, the boy spun out of the path of another grenade, gritting his teeth in grim determination. The less-than-welcoming chuckle of his enemy rung in his head, and without hesitation the boy dove behead a boulder. He was close; footsteps on the mountain terrain gave away the location of his enemy. Just a few steps closer- the boy leaped from his hiding spot, bullets whizzing in the air, and yet through it. Confusion dotted the boy's features, but before he could gather his wits, a stab to the spine severed his life. His body slumped to the ground.

"FUCKING HELL! You stupid asslicking titface, I cannot believe that your assholery actually won the fucking round once again! I swear that this dick munching game is plotting against me; don't FUCKING LAUGH AT ME you half blind bitchsucker!"

Karkat ranted, finally tossing aside the controller in a short fit of fury. A lisping asshole sat beside him, chuckling at his friend's dismay.

"It'th not my fault you thuck tho hard at thith. Theriously, I think my chair could beat your thorry ath."  
The reply was an intense glare from Karkat, eyes narrowed in an expression that said 'I-am-Karkat-and-Holy-FUCK-do-I-disprove-this-message'. After around fifteen minutes of back and forth arguing, Karkat resettled himself on a beanbag chair [fucking beanbag chairs were the worse, why not just sit in a fucking pillow god] and sollux spoke up again.

"Tho what'th bothering you tho much?"

This caught Karkat off guard, causing him to shoot an incredulous look towards Sollux who, for one reason or another, seemed to be completely serious in his inquiry.

"What the fuck are you referring to? Do I look like some high school drop out piece of shit living on welfare? I don't have any asshumping issues to discuss with your beebrained face, you fuckdriving imbecile."

"Does it have to do with GZ?"

"Fuck you in every orifice you have times three."

Silence welled up in the awkward situation, Karkat looking off to the side with shame written over his face. A rare moment of 'fuck this i can't do it anymore' crossed over his demeanour before the boy reached once more for the controller.

"I'm going to fucking kick your sorry ass you lisping freak."


End file.
